


Concerning Hobbits (EV)

by Srtawalker



Series: Translated Songs of the Lonely Mountain [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Consort Bilbo Baggins, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29631069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Srtawalker/pseuds/Srtawalker
Summary: Bilbo has agreed to stay in Erebor and become consort. Still, there are many things Bilbo is unaware of about the culture of his future spouse or Thorin. Over the course of a year many events will test the relationship between the King and hobbit.Or, Bilbo and Thorin just want to get married but life get’s in the way.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: Translated Songs of the Lonely Mountain [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2175363
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32





	1. At The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Concerning Hobbits](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4747151) by [Srtawalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Srtawalker/pseuds/Srtawalker). 



> Hello again. Here is the first chapter of the new instalment of "Translated Songs of the Lonely Mountain". "Concerning Hobbits" is the second part, the first can be found under the name of "There and Back Again". I just wanted to say thank you very much to everyone and everyone who has written me comments. Thanks to you this story is being translated and I am continuing with it. Your support means everything to me and knowing that you enjoy it and want more encourages me to continue. I hope you enjoy this one too.

_We were strangers, on a crazy adventure_

_Never dreaming, how our dreams would come true_

_Now here we stand, unafraid of the future_

_At the beginning with you_

And life is a road that I wanna keep going

Love is a river, I wanna keep flowing

Life is a road, now and forever, wonderful journey

I'll be there when the world stops turning

I'll be there when the storm is through

In the end I wanna be standing

At the beginning with you

It was strange having Bilbo in his life, strange sharing his day to day with him. It was true that they didn’t live together, but they saw each other so often that it was as if they were preparing for it. In a way they were. It was strange in a nice way. Thorin had noticed how everything was easier, actions that previously cost him effort and dedication now were practically seamless. The king of Erebor was not a dwarf of diplomacy, he was not one of those kings used to leading his kingdom from a desk. He shone on action, with clear objectives and achievable goals. Ever since he had begun to rule Erebor, he had noticed part of him disappear, as if the burden of bureaucracy and agreements buried him, leaving only a shadow. Since Bilbo had returned, everything had changed. He now he had a goal, an objective. All his determination was to make Erebor a home for Bilbo, to have his people love the hobbit, and marry him.

He felt the door to his office open but didn't look up. He knew those silent steps.

“ _Turghalwê_.” Bilbo said before kissing his cheek.

His accent was unlike any accent Thorin had ever heard. Strange as well as exotic, making it clear that the person speaking had not learned the language as a child, nor was he a dwarf. His pronunciation, however, was perfect.

“ _Kunh abhur mênu mabahrul_?” Said Thorin more slowly than usual, moving the chair so that Bilbo could sit on his lap.

“ _Id-manar_.” The hobbit replied with a smile, proud of understanding the question.

Thorin smiled as he caressed Bilbo's face. In recent months the hobbit had done so much. Not only had he made the fields start to come back to life; the color of the earth healthy, covered with grass and small wild flowers. He also had spent every remaining minute learning as much as possible about their culture and customs.

At first Thorin hadn't been very sure of Bilbo's proposal. He didn't know if it was really a good idea, he had never imagined ruling with someone. And when he had discovered that he was in love with the halfling, he had not imagined that he was going to fulfill the functions of consort. He had imagined him next to him, but not like this. Now, when the idea began to take shape, when he saw how much Bilbo had to contribute, how valuable his opinions were, the peace of mind it gave him when he had to solve something difficult, how easy everything was at his side, he realized that he didn’t know how there had ever been a time when he thought to leave Bilbo in the background. Every day he realized that he needed him, not only to be at peace, but to be a better king for his people.

“What are you doing tonight?” Asked the hobbit, returning to his native language.

"What do you propose?" His hands on Bilbo's hips. He had become addicted to the touch of his skin, the softness of his body.

“I’ve been picking up mushrooms these last few days, and I have enough to make a soup.”

Not only had Bilbo been learning from his culture, Thorin had learned from Bilbo's. It had been the king himself who had proposed it one night not far from their first night together. When he had finally asked the question that he had been carrying on his mind for several days.

_"Is it normal?" He asked him once his breathing was steady again._

_“What?” He noticed Bilbo hovering over him, lying down. He liked that position, feeling Bilbo's weight on him, seeing his face so closely, just having to move his arm to touch him._

_“The number of times you get to…” He didn't have to finish the sentence. He could tell from Bilbo's flushed cheeks that the hobbit knew what he meant._

_“Yes. At least among hobbits it is.”_

_Thorin laid his head on the pillow, thinking about what Bilbo had just told him._

_"How many times is it normal?" He said without looking into his eyes. He noticed how Bilbo moved a little, as if he was uncomfortable. He didn't know why he was asking him that, but he needed to know. He needed to find out if he was giving him everything he needed or if he was finishing up too soon._

_"I don't know." The hobbit's voice was lower, shy, and Thorin looked at him. "It's not like I had much experience before," he said looking away._

_Thorin leaned back, shifting so that his back was against the headboard. What Bilbo had just told him had shaken him, for he hadn't expected it, not after being with him, how he had been with him._

_"How many partners have you had?"_

_Bilbo looked away and Thorin didn't need an answer from him. A wave of worry ran through his body. He had been his first, the first person to touch him so privately, the first to enter him._

_“It’s not like I’m inexperienced,” said the hobbit in response to Thorin. “It’s not like that… I don’t know how you guys are with this, but we hobbits are not that open. You don’t usually have relationships until you marry. I've had moments of fondling, but nothing serious, nothing like that and well…” Bilbo moved, sitting next to him, and Thorin took the opportunity to sit better. "It's just that I've never had the chance to go that far, I've never been with someone like that."_

_"Why didn't you tell me?" Thorin's tone hinted at his regret. “If I had known…”_

_"Would you have acted differently?" Bilbo said, finishing his sentence._

_“Yes.”_

_Bilbo snorted. “That's why I didn't tell you anything, Thorin. I didn't want you to act differently, I didn't want to... Thorin, I've been wanting this for so long, waiting for someone to have what I have with you. I had thought it was never going to be possible.” Bilbo placed his hands on his chest, stroking the thick hair. "This, we, would never have been possible in the Shire." His voice was laden with grief, and Thorin understood._

_The king realized then that there were many things he didn’t know about Bilbo, about hobbits. At that moment he realized that he didn’t know what the hobbit had been like before meeting him, he didn’t know his customs, his culture, no more than the little stories he had told him during the adventure. Thorin thought that was not right. If Bilbo was going to stay in Erebor, if he was going to learn from them, the least Thorin could do was learn from him too. He needed to know his culture if he wanted to make him happy. It was as simple as that._

_“Since I met you, I have taken many things for granted and now I realize I shouldn't have, I know so little about you, Bilbo, about your culture, about your customs.” Thorin brought his forehead to the hobbit's. “I would like to learn.”_

_Bilbo nodded and Thorin felt his lips, sweet and firm, against his._

“I can be in your rooms by last working bell. I still have a lot to do,” said Thorin with resignation, for he knew how important mushrooms were to Bilbo, as the hobbit treasured them as if they were precious gems.

“I’ll wait for you.” He said getting up. Thorin let him go, missing the touch of him as soon as he did.

He said nothing more and left, and when he closed the door Thorin was left alone. He brushed the hair out of his face, and looked back at his documents. The sooner he finished the sooner he could leave.

***

Bofur ran grabbing his hat. “Bilbo!”

The hobbit turned and saw his friend come to meet him. Luckily he knew dwarves and stepped aside, thus preventing Bofur from collide with him when stopping.

“Bofur, what's going on?”

"Nothing." The dwarf replied. “I saw you and wanted to say hello. We haven't seen each other for a long time.” He said, quickly catching his breath.

"We had lunch three days ago." Bilbo's tone was cheerful, happy.

“Well, that was a long time ago. Come, let me buy you tea.” He said taking his friend by the arm. “There is a lot we have to talk about.”

Bilbo let Bofur guide him. It didn't take long for him to recognize where they were going. It was the teahouse they always frequent. One located in an upper corner of the Eastern district, with simple decorations reminiscent of past times of great splendor. It was pretty and cozy and there was a sofa at the end of the room that was practically reserved for them.

“Good afternoon, Ravor,” said Bilbo as he entered, greeting the owner.

“Good afternoon, mister Bilbo.” He replied with a sincere smile. “The usual?”

“Yes, thanks.”

"Some really good pecan cookies just came out of the oven."

"Can you bring us four?" Said the hobbit, in that polite tone that Ravor loved.

“Of course. You have your spot free.”

“Thank you,” said Bofur, taking Bilbo away.

The hobbit noticed how his friend was really eager to talk to him and said goodbye to the dwarf with a hand signal.

"What's wrong?" He asked as soon as he sat down.

"Today she came back," Bofur said in a whisper tone, but speaking just as loudly.

“Who?”

“The dwarf with the bow-shaped hairdo that has been coming for a month.”

"Ah." Bilbo knew who he was referring to. It had been a month since a dwarf had visited Bifur's toy store and bought nothing. Bofur had found out when his cousin had told him once when he had come to pay him a visit. She was always the same dwarf, more or less at the same time, on alternate days. Bifur hadn't thought it important, but Bofur thought he did. It was a mystery, one that he and his best friend had to solve.

"You haven't thought that she might be interested in Bifur?"

Bofur looked at him in surprise. His cousin was not exactly the ideal bachelor model, not with all the problems he had. Bofur and Bombur loved him and they hadn't minded taking care of him after he returned from the war with the axe. He had never been the same again, but he was still that sweet dwarf they had played with as children.

“I don't see why you are so surprised. Bifur is an interesting dwarf,” said Bilbo as he moved the small vase to make room for tea.

Bilbo had always know Bifur after the battle and he had never given too much importance to his being completely different from the rest, to having strange behaviors or not being able to communicate with him. Since they met, Bilbo had tried to be his friend, even with the problems that caused, and Bifur had reciprocated his feelings, finding in Bilbo someone with whom he could be silent and talk about anything without feeling judged. The fact that Bilbo was learning Khuzdul had only helped, for now Bilbo understood part of what Bifur was telling him.

“Yes, okay. You know I adore him, but he's not exactly someone to get into a relationship with. I don't know, Bilbo. I'm afraid she is after something. After all, Bifur is rich, he is a noble now, and I fear that her intentions are not the best.”

Bilbo helped himself to sugar while he thought about what Bofur just told him. It was an option, but rushing in wasn't right either.

“Why don't we both go one day when we know she's going to be there? So we observe and I talk to her, to see if we can find out something.”

Bofur smiled, that open and distinctive smile of his. "Bilbo, you are the best." He said hugging him. Bilbo smiled, glad he could help his friend.

***

“It's delicious,” Thorin said as soon as he tasted the soup. He had never eaten mushrooms in his entire life, he had always thought those things were poisonous, never until he had had a hobbit in his life. If Thorin had learned anything, it was that the hobbits valued mushrooms as if they were mithril. It was an honor that he invited him to the cream that he had made.

“Thank you,” said Bilbo with a smile, and he began to eat. They were both silent for a while, enjoying supper.

The rooms that had been assigned to Bilbo were not very large, not by dwarf standards, but they had everything the hobbit needed. A bedroom, a study, a kitchen, a bathroom, light, and being close to Thorin. Bilbo had been living there for a few months and felt comfortable, however there was a topic that he wanted to discuss with Thorin. He thought it was time to get it out.

“Thorin, I’d like to talk to you about something.” He said putting down his spoon to get some bread.

Thorin looked at him but didn’t stop eating.

“It's about the royal apartments. I was wondering if you could tell me why you don't live there.”

Thorin took what was left of the cream and put down the spoon. Bilbo hadn't brought the subject up in all that time, not since he'd realized that he didn't live where the king should. Thorin knew that sooner or later the subject would come up, but that didn’t mean that he had prepared an answer.

“It's where my grandfather lived.” He said being sincere. That was something new for him too, being able to open his heart to Bilbo, knowing that whatever he said would not play against him, that he could speak freely. The fact of not being his king, of not having to be an authority figure for someone, was new, but liberating.

"And I imagine all the kings before him." Bilbo said continuing with the topic, wanting to get to the point.

"I tried." He said looking at the half-empty wine glass. “I went to the rooms and opened the door, but I couldn't get in. It's like his shadow is still there.” Thorin stopped speaking, remembering the moment. He had smelled the dust, the closed air, he had looked around and seen everything he did not want to be. He didn't want to live like this, surrounded by gold, luxuries he had forgotten, luxuries he had lived without for over a hundred years. He didn't want to live in that place, not like this. Not surrounded by gold. Never again surrounded by gold. “It's all too much…”

Bilbo nodded, although he knew Thorin was not looking at him. He understood what Thorin meant, for he had felt the same way when he had been there. However, he knew that Thorin should live there, it was the right thing to do, he was the king, and he sent the wrong image that he didn’t. He had heard some rumors, not many, but enough to worry him.

"I was thinking maybe we could live there," Bilbo said and Thorin looked at him, surprised. “I’ve been thinking and maybe it would be a good idea. You know, we could redecorate everything, put the things I want to bring from Bag End. Make it ours.” His voice was light, as if wanting to dismiss the issue, something Thorin appreciated.

"The consort has separate apartments," Thorin said and Bilbo closed his mouth. Bilbo hadn't thought of that. Did he mean that they weren't going to live together? "Forget what I said," Thorin said quickly.

“No, I did not know. I thought we were going to live together.” Bilbo thought he was going to be able to build a home, a place where Thorin felt comfortable, where he wanted to be. Like his father had done for his mother.

“Bilbo, forget it. It is traditional for the consort or queen to have their own rooms on the same floor, but you do not have to use them. If I'm honest I hadn't thought about it, where we would live. But now that you say it, you are right. We need a place, the rooms I have now would be too small for us. We could do it.” He said, smiling slightly, reaching out to take Bilbo's hand. "We could reform it and make it our own." There was more confidence and excitement in his voice than he really felt.

Bilbo smiled and squeezed his hand.

***

Thorin opened the door slowly, feeling the specks of dust move. He entered, slowly, and looked around. For a moment he felt like a child again, entering uninvited, breaking the rules. He remembered one of the times he had done it, how the guards had kicked him out right away, as his grandfather was busy and he couldn't be bothered. He felt small, out of place, in the king's chambers. He closed his eyes.

He felt Bilbo's hand catch his, felt him join him, and stopped feeling small. He looked again and saw only a room full of junk and dust. They walked through the different rooms, putting aside bitter memories and insecurities. Thorin quickly began to realize that the place had potential. With each step he imagined everything he could do, how he could transform the rooms to make them more comfortable for Bilbo. The hobbit had not let go of his hand the entire way, marveling at the architecture and making inspiring comments. Thorin wrote down in his mind everything Bilbo said, the ideas he had, but just before leaving him, when they were a few steps from the door, he realized that all of his ideas were wrong. He stood up, pulling away from Bilbo and making him turn around. Bilbo had said many things about rehabilitating the spaces, but all he had said was to make Thorin feel more comfortable, to make it a home for him. That was wrong. Thorin didn’t want other rooms that were like the ones he already had but larger. Thorin wanted to make a home for Bilbo. He turned, waiting attention to the rooms, remembering every corner, every space, and locating his position on the mountain. An idea crossed his mind and he smiled. He knew what he had to do. He took Bilbo's hand and they left.

Bilbo didn't ask him what had happened, what he had thought about when he had let go of his hand. That was another one of the things he loved about Bilbo. The hobbit knew when to speak and when not to. Thorin dismissed Bilbo with a kiss on the forehead before heading to his office. He had a lot to think about, he had an idea in mind and he planned to carry it out. Hours later, Thorin found his sleeves rolled up, his vest on the chair, and plans all over the table. The one in front of him was the final model, a complete floor plan with the modifications he planned to make. He was going to put both rooms together, he was going to create different spaces, so that both could have privacy, but also spaces to be together. He was going to build a kitchen and cover it with wood, like every space that was just for Bilbo; he was going to lower the ceilings and imitate, as much as possible, the style of Bag End. The part that excited him the most was the part that he had to discuss with Balin. He was thinking of building a garden for Bilbo on the same floor, and he was thinking of using the magic that his ancestors had used in the past for it.

***

Rugur greeted his captain expectantly. He got up from his command chair and went to him.

"What news do you bring me?"

“Gundabad is still inhabited by orcs. Not many, but enough to pose a fight. The fort is still there, the roads are still intact, although there are modifications to the plans you gave me, _uzbadê_.”

"Do you think it can be done?" Asked the Lord of the Ironfists.

“I think it’s possible, but it’ll take time,” said the captain, taking off his traveling cloak. “The roads go between _Azsâlul'abad_ and _Zirinhanâd_. We're going to need another route to get through without being seen.”

Rugur turned, walking towards the table he had in the middle of the room, where a giant map of the area was placed. He looked back at the mountain and the hills. He wanted to conquer Gundabad, it was something that he had put into his head and he could not get rid of it. Long ago it had belong to his people and it would be theirs again. It was the perfect occasion. He had met Thorin and knew that the king had no intention of taking back the old domain, he had no intention of going to war. But Rugur did. If he got Gundabad, the Gray Mountains would be no problem. And once they were in his power, he could get hold of all the gems and metals that were there. It was a perfect plan, because Rugur wanted power, he wanted to grow, he wanted to expand. Above all, he wanted jewels, precious stones that were not abundant in his domain. He knew that he could manipulate the rest to support him, and his time to attack was now, when Thorin had only been on the throne for a short time. When he was still weak.

He didn’t seek open warfare, in fact he didn’t seek war, hence the importance of subtlety, of planning everything to the smallest detail. Rugur was a patient dwarf, if time was needed, he would wait for the right moment. He had not forgotten Thorin's face, the way he had humiliated him at the Gala. He hadn't forgotten the anger that was in his eyes when he had mentioned the halfling. The hobbit… An idea began to take shape in the mind of the Lord of the Ironfists.

“Bavli, call Rumol." Rugur ordered his servant. “It’s about time we sent an ambassador to Erebor. I want to know about every movement of the earth, every stone extracted. I want to know if that halfling is still there.”

***

Balin went over the plan again. Everything had to be perfect, he was aware of how important it was that the courtship was carried out in the best way. Bilbo had been living in Erebor for a couple of months and everything seemed to be going well. Quite a few dwarves wondered what a hobbit was doing living with them, but they quickly fell silent, giving rise to no rumors. After all, the hobbit was not just any hobbit, he was the one who had recovered Erebor. The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins was known to all, it would have been impossible otherwise since Bofur had not stopped singing it every time he had the opportunity. Still they were restless.

It was not until early summer that Dale’s crops began to bear fruit. Not many, just the quick vegetables Bilbo had planted to rejuvenate the earth, not enough to feed two cities. It was still food, more food than they were used to, and word quickly spread that it was all thanks to the hobbit. That helped. Balin gathered up the papers and left his office. It had been a long time since there had been a royal courtship, not since Thror courted his wife over three hundred years ago. However, no dwarf had forgotten how it was done, at least the basics. Courtship was something ingrained in their culture. It was true that not always all the steps were followed, but this time they will be. It was how things had been done since their creation and it was how they would continue to be done, for the dwarves were a people who valued tradition above all else.

A royal courtship, however, was much more than courting someone, it was to make known to the people who would be the future royal consort. It was something decisive, because thanks to it the subjects would forge an opinion of the dwarf in question. In this case of the hobbit, Balin thought as he made his way to Thorin's office. It was not going to be easy, for Balin knew well that it was not something that would be received with open arms. Yet he understood why Thorin wanted to do it, why he had waited to announce it. It was a smart thing to do, give people time to get to know Bilbo and then introduce him. The story that Balin had prepared was that love had arisen when the hobbit had moved to Erebor, although there were feelings before, hence the courtship happening so late. It was a lie, of course, but they couldn't tell the truth. No one could know the intimacy of the relationship Thorin and Bilbo had. Intimacy that Balin did not fully know but that he could imagine. Sometimes he wondered what was going through Thorin's mind. He had been educated in Erebor, he knew the traditions better than anyone and valued history like few people. However, Bilbo spent more nights in the royal apartments than in his rooms. That was not right, they were not following the rules. No king of Erebor had married someone without the traditional courtship, and Thorin was not going to be the first. Not taking into account that he planned to make Bilbo the second most powerful person in the kingdom.

Balin smiled as he walked. Bilbo… If someone had told him that that insecure little hobbit he had known so long ago in his cozy hole in the ground would one day become Erebor's consort, he would have cut the beard of the daring dwarf. But here they were. Bilbo living in Erebor, Thorin being king. And Balin didn't know how, but every day he thanked Mahal for having put the hobbit in the way of his king. Bilbo was good for Thorin, he was more than good. Balin had to go back to when Thorin had been young and lived in the mountains to remember the last time he had seen him so happy, so peaceful. All of this was Bilbo's work, for not even reconquering their kingdom had had such an effect on Thorin. Balin still remembered Thorin's stares, the general apathy he had gone through since the hobbit left. Bilbo was good for Thorin, and Balin knew that he would be good for Erebor too. Hence his plan could not fail.

The old dwarf entered the office, expecting to meet Thorin working on the new tax rates on the excavation of semi-precious stones and instead found Bilbo's back, perched on Thorin's table, Thorin's hands gripping his waist and head. The old dwarf didn't have to keep walking to know what they were doing. He cleared his throat and reveled in Bilbo's astonished and embarrassed face, as well as Thorin's angry face.

"We had arranged to meet." He said in welcome.

Bilbo had turned away from Thorin, climbing down from the table and repositioning his vest. However, he had not gone far as Thorin was putting an arm around him. The hobbit's face was as red as the tomatoes he talked about so much. Bilbo looked at Thorin, waiting for an answer. By his face, Balin could understand that his king had not informed Bilbo of the meeting, at least not of the time.

"It is customary to knock before entering." Thorin said it with a slight hint of anger. Although Balin did not give it the slightest importance. He knew Thorin too well for that.

He shifted, sitting in the chair next to the sofa. “Shall we start?”

Bilbo stirred, quickly regaining his usual composure. "I'm going to ask for tea." He said leaving the room with that stealth and speed so characteristic of his race.

Balin looked at Thorin and Thorin made a gesture with his hand as if daring him to say something as he approached him.

"We better leave that to the privacy of your rooms,” said Balin.

"I'm in my office," Thorin answered by way of excuse.

Balin didn’t answer. He just waited for Bilbo to come back with tea and a bit calmer. Once the three of them were seated, Balin began to explain his proposal. They were to begin by announcing to the people Bilbo's intention of courtship and acceptance. After that, everything would go as usual. Thorin would give Bilbo a gift of his specialty, in the case of the king the forge, and Bilbo would accept, responding with a gift of his specialty, in the case of Bilbo... well, not all the points were yet very clear. They would have a public meal and visit different parts of Erebor in an official way, continuing with gifts and showing their acceptance until after two months later when they will announce their engagement. Balin hoped that all was well, that it was long enough for Erebor to see Bilbo with good eyes. It was important that they were satisfied, especially considering that Thorin planned to leave the kingdom once he announced the marriage.

From his side, Bilbo had learned about courtship and all the different steps and meanings of each gift in one of the many classes he had taken on the culture of his future adoptive people.

_"Don't your people have something like that?" Balin had asked him that day, when he had seen Bilbo's astonished face._

_“Yes of course. But nothing like this, not so… elaborate.” The hobbit replied. “The normal thing is to invite the hobbit over, give them flowers, and cook them your best dish. When things are serious, the family is usually invited to lunch.” He said, gesturing with the feather with which he used to take notes. “There are not so many… Steps. It's not that strict.”_

_“It’s tradition. But to be honest in general is not that different from yours. Although it takes longer. It is only in special cases, like yours, that it should be handled with more care.”_

_Bilbo looked to the side with an annoyed face. He would never have imagined that everything would be so complicated. Thorin hadn't made it complicated, he had made it extremely simple. Without steps, without rituals, without objects of devotion. He loved him and Bilbo loved him back. It was simple. Yet, Bilbo thought, he had long ago begun to understand that nothing was easy when one was to marry a king._

***

Frodo waved his hands, welcoming the raven, and said goodbye to his cousins, going to meet the animal. His uncle wrote to him monthly and that was always a joy for the little Baggins. Ever since Bilbo had gone, Frodo had missed him. When they had all lived together Bilbo had always told him stories and made him very good cookies. Much nicer than his mother's, although he hadn't said that. He missed him, but with each letter there was always a little story that his mother read to him at night. His uncle always remembered him, and Frodo couldn't wait to see him again.

“Mum! Dad!” He yelled as he entered the house. “A letter.”

Drogo went to meet him and took the letter from his son, stroked his hair, and went to the sofa to read it. He still remembered the first letter that had come from his cousin. Poor Hamfast had been the one who had received it tied to the leg of a crow. He could still hear the screams of surprise and his hurried footsteps to Bag End. That day Drogo was at home and had received him with the kettle about to ring.

Drogo had been glad to know that Bilbo was okay. He loved his cousin, he had always loved him more than the rest of his family. Maybe it was because Bilbo didn't interfere in his life. Bilbo was there when he needed him, but he was never impertinent, he didn’t meddle in his affairs or gave him his opinion when he had not asked. He had always taken care of Frodo when they couldn't and he had left his home to them for months. Drogo knew his cousin was weird, there was no denying it after he disappeared for a year with some dwarves, but that was no reason to call him crazy. Not like he heard from time to time at the market or the Green Dragon. Perhaps precisely because he knew Bilbo better than the rest, and because he had been there when he had left the second time, he was not surprised when he read that he was going to stay longer in those lands.

Months had passed since then and Bilbo had corresponded with him thanks to that raven. At first Drogo had been afraid, for he had never seen a crow like this, so big, with such intelligent eyes, but Frodo had not hesitated to touch him; and seeing that it did nothing to him, Drogo had removed the piece of paper that he had tied to his leg. Since then the raven visited them often and always waited until Drogo wrote a reply. It was as if he understood him, and sometimes Drogo thought the raven was about to speak. He knew that was absurd, crows don't speak, but still he thought so.

He opened the letter, carefully breaking the acorn-shaped wax seal, and began to read.

_“Dear Drogo,_

_I hope everything is well and that the three of you are happy. As I mentioned in the previous letter, I now live in the Lonely Mountain. It is not as dark and cold as you imagine, it is a beautiful place. If you could see it, Drogo, you would be amazed. There is nothing like it in the world. You know that I have traveled a lot and believe me when I tell you that it is of a beauty without equal. Every day it is more rebuilt and you can see how it is full of life. Walking through the market is a unique experience, with stalls selling things from all over the world. Well... not all, there is nothing from the Shire. But it's still special. I like it._

_I'm still working to help the men cultivate the fields. The soil is starting to bear fruit, but I think it won't come back to life for another year, hopefully. Fire swept through this land and it has been inert for a long time, still I have faith._

_What I'm going to tell you next, I would appreciate it if the word got out as little as possible. I will return to the Shire at the end of the year. I have decided to stay here in Erebor. I know it must seem crazy to you, I can almost imagine your face right now, but I am determined. I am going to go with some friends to collect certain things. That doesn't mean you have to go, really. You can stay as long as you want, what's more, you can stay forever. We'll talk in person, but I have no intention of selling Bag End. I don't want to part with it because I plan to visit from time to time. That is precisely why I would love for you to stay with your family._

_I will arrive for the winter. I really want to see you all. Give many kisses to Primula and Frodo. Here I send you another little story that I hope little Frodo would like. Say hello to Hamfast and tell him that I am following all of his advice and that all is well for now._

_Regards,_

_Bilbo Baggins.”_

Drogo dropped his arms and took a breath, then released it very slowly. He looked at his son, who was looking at him expectantly. He read the letter again. Yes. He had read it right. _Well_ , he thought, _I have to answer something_. And with that thought he went to find paper and ink. He didn't use Bilbo's study, he hadn't touched it since he left, it seemed disrespectful to him, so he had brought his own desk and put it in one of the multiple rooms.

He picked up the feather and looked at the paper.

_“Dear Bilbo,_

_Glad to hear you are coming. I'll have the house ready. It gives me impression that we have a lot to talk about. If you can let me know how many friends will come with you I’ll get the rooms ready. Also an approximate date._

_Thanks. A big hug._

_Drogo."_

He looked at the letter. He didn't know what else to add. There wasn't much to say, not after what he'd read.

_"PS: Frodo loves your stories, thanks for them."_

He went outside and looked for the raven. He saw him perched on the mailbox. As soon as the animal saw that he was carrying a letter in his hand, it went to him and perched on the lamp post. Drogo put the letter on his paw, stroked his head, and watched him go, flying east.

 _Bilbo was coming, but not to stay,_ was all he thought as he entered the house accompanied by a Frodo full of questions about his uncle.

____

_Turghalwê: My sweet beard._

_Kunh abhur mênu mabahrul?: Where did you learn that?_

_‘Id-manar’: The market-place_

_Uzbadê: my Lord._

_Azsâlul'abad: Lonely Mountain_

_Zirinhanâd: Iron Hills_


	2. Believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know for how long I can keep up with this speed of translating. My job as been a bit quiet lately and I have been so excited seeing the reception and comments!  
> This is for you all! You are the best!

_So open up my eyes_

_Tell me I'm alive_

_This is never gonna go our way_

_If I'm gonna have to guess what's on your mind_

_Say something, say something,_

_Something like you love me_

_Less you wanna move away_

_From the noise of this place_

The news that the king was going to court Bilbo had just been made public and the reaction of the people had been mixed, because not everyone was very sure what had happened for something like that to take place. After the traditional offering and acceptance of gifts in public, they had said goodbye. Thorin would have liked to stay with Bilbo, as the hobbit's face throughout the event had worried him. Not that his face showed disagreement, quite the contrary. Thorin knew him well enough by now to know when he made a face to please and when he was truly pleased. The king knew that everything that was happening and was about to happen with the courtship seemed strange and incomprehensible to Bilbo, and Thorin understood. Bilbo was a simple creature, with simple habits. Thorin wouldn’t forget that he was a hobbit, that no matter how much he mixed with his people, no matter how much he learned of his customs, he would never be one of them.

On the other hand, Dís had been looking at the faces of the nobles. She had seen their surprise and discontent. She knew that tomorrow was going to be a difficult day for Thorin, that they were going to come for him, angry that they had not been informed beforehand, with a thousand reasons why he should end this courtship. And that was just what his brother didn't need. In those last months Dís had gotten to know Bilbo more thoroughly, finding out why his brother had fallen in love with him. The hobbit was an amazing creature, kind but firm, intelligent like few people she had ever known, with a heart as big as his brother's. It was just what Thorin needed. Someone capable of being by his side without becoming his shadow. Kind of funny, given that Thorin poked a head out of him. Bilbo was a gift from Mahal and Dís was going to do everything possible to make him consort. She picked up the bottle of wine and poured two glasses as she thought about the early visit she was going to make to the Council of Elders tomorrow.

Thorin took the goblet his sister offered him. He didn't want Bilbo to be one of them. He loved the hobbit for what he was, for the way he saw the world, for the goodness and wisdom in him. He didn't want to camouflage Bilbo's nature to his people, he wanted them to see him as he did. He knew it wouldn't be easy, as he had been the first to be skeptical of the hobbit, but he knew it was doable.

“I hate all this,” said Thorin to his sister, sitting down by the fireplace.

“I know. I'm thankful that I didn't have to go through it.”

Thorin nodded. He still remembered the day that Dís's husband had come to his house to introduce himself as his sister's suitor. It wasn't Thorin's best day. Not Vili, because he left the house flying, with a black eye and a broken rib. Thorin hadn't taken it too well that his sister, the princess of Erebor, would date someone outside their clan, someone who was really nobody. Thorin had also ended up with a black eye, but not thanks to the dwarf, but to his sister. After that everything went relatively well. Although they never had to go through a public courtship. Nobody cares that a dwarf who was nobody married another dwarf of almost the same social scale. Now everything would have been different. They weren't almost homeless now.

"I'm worried about Bilbo," Thorin acknowledged.

“You shouldn't." His sister knew him. She didn't need Thorin to elaborate the phrase further. “He is not going anywhere. He's strong and capable, he can handle it.”

Thorin took a swallow and set the glass aside, going for his pipe. “Sometimes I think I ask too much of him. He is not used to all this. I am not used to all this. I have a feeling I should know better how to handle it, that I should help him.” Thorin lit his pipe and looked into the fire as he tossed the small piece of wood. "We have lived so long away from all this, all this… circus, that I had forgotten what it was like."

Dís got up and touched her brother's shoulder. He turned and it was one of those few times where Thorin's face was an open book, where she could read every doubt, every concern. She touched his face, bringing her foreheads together. After a moment she pulled away from him, looking into his eyes.

“ _Nadad_ , nobody expects a circus from you. Your people know who you are, they know what you have done, what you have lived. You're doing the right thing with Bilbo, you're right to bring the tradition back. It’s important. Especially for Bilbo. The people must recognize him, must respect him and love him. You're doing the right thing.”

Dís stared at her brother, expecting to see in his eyes that he had received the message. When he nodded slightly, she continued.

“Do you remember what _‘adad_ said to us? She said: _‘When you get married, look for someone who is stronger than you, for they will be your support in difficult times.’_ ” Dís brushed a silver lock from Thorin's face. “You have chosen well. The hobbit is strong, he is loyal to you and he loves you more than anything. You don't have to worry about Bilbo Baggins.”

"I think I'm asking too much of him." He said quietly, moved by his sister's words.

Dís smiled, lovingly. "Oh, Thorin, you're not asking him for anything he doesn't want to give."

***

Dagril had listened to the news without flinching. He knew it would happen, it wasn't a surprise to him. He waited until his turn was over and he went straight to his rooms. He lived in the posh area of Erebor, near the Palace. Thorin had arranged for him to live there and he was grateful for it. It was not as spectacular as his quarters in _Zirinhanâd_ but he had everything he needed. He had independence.

He still remembered the day when he knelt before the king and asked him to accept his axe and loyalty. Thorin had been surprised. He had left the throne, approaching him and asking him if he was sure. Dagril had not wavered. He was determined. He knew that what he felt for Thorin would never be returned, and he understood that. He had spent too much time thinking about it. It was true that he desired Thorin in a carnal way; that he dreamed of touching his skin, of feeling him close to him, as close as possible. More than once he had relieved himself thinking about it, what it would be like to spend a night with him, what it would be like to open up to him while looking into those hypnotic blue eyes. He was not ashamed of his thoughts, for he knew it was the closest he would ever be to reality. However, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t aware that he was not the one for Thorin. He saw him as the king that he was. Like a powerful being, someone capable of anything he set his mind to. Someone worth following and dying for. Thorin was that legendary figure that he had always wanted, that he had dreamed of as a child; and now that it was a reality he knew that he needed to stay by his side.

He knew that what he felt for Thorin he would never feel for anyone again, but at the same time he thought that he was still not sure what he felt. Thorin produced desire, respect, admiration, loyalty, but he knew it wasn’t romantic love. It was so complicated and also the main reason why he had decided to stay, he wanted to find out what he felt. He knew that if he had left he would never forgive himself. Also there was Erebor, the city was of a beauty like nothing he had ever seen. It felt like home in a mysterious way.

Still, the announcement of the king's courtship of the hobbit had not taken him by surprise. He did not know the creature and doubted very much that it was Thorin's _merlar,_ but he intended to respect it. He had seen how the king had looked at him as they danced. There was adoration and love in his gaze. Dagril wanted to find out more about the hobbit, he wanted to make sure that if Thorin married someone, that person was worthy of his love; especially considering that he would become consort. Dagril knew that if his king were to marry the hobbit, he would be consort in title only. He was a hobbit, so he would never have any real powers over decision.

He took off the armor of the Kingsguard and lay down on the bed. At that moment he realized that Thorin's action today could have a negative impact on the people. There could be a riot or worst. He had to talk to Dwalin tomorrow, ask him if there was anything he could do. He didn’t want anything to disturb the peace that was now in Erebor. Not now that the tension has began to calm down, that people finally felt at home, not now that there was more food and more contracts. He stood up with a start. He had forgotten about his uncle. He had to warn his uncle about Thorin and his courtship. But at the same time he didn't know if he should. He now was part of the King's Guard. Only the best and most loyal dwarves were part of that exclusive group. Dagril had been admitted in an unconventional way, as he was not a citizen of Erebor nor had he been with Thorin in Ered Luin, however Thorin had decided that if what he wanted was to serve, he was not going to put him on patrol mines. It had been a beautiful gesture, one that spoke of the confidence he had in him. He couldn't betray that trust. He lay down again and decided that sooner or later his uncle would find out. It was none of his business. After all, his uncle hadn't asked him to send him information. Not like his sister. He thought of Dagira and the face she would make when she found out. If there was one thing he would regret for the rest of his life, it would be not being there to see it in person.

***

Thorin was not calm. Ever since they had decided to put his plan into operation and publicize his relationship with Bilbo he had had this feeling that something was changing, something he couldn't identify, and he didn't like it. Thorin was someone who always wanted to know what was going on, especially inside his head. Especially since he had been through the madness. He didn't like the idea of not knowing what he was feeling, not knowing what he thought about something. He wanted everything to pass, for the months to run and flee from Erebor. It was strange, he had spent his whole life wanting to return and now that he was there he wanted nothing more than to leave. Not forever, just for a few months. He wanted to leave and when he returned everything would be solved, everything would be fine, and they could just marry and get on with their lives.

Ever since Bilbo had come back to his life, Thorin had realized how badly he had been before. He had left many things unsupervised, many decisions undone. He hadn't cared for his body and his image, he hadn't cared as much as he should have. He now realized how little he had seen his nephews, how little he had seen all his friends, how little he had attended or made events for the kingdom. Now he was beginning to realize the amount of unsolved problems that had been waiting behind the door for months. He should have strengthened his alliance with the elves, built better paths for trade with Ered Luin. They were starting to run out of food. It had been almost a year since he had seen Bard. He had not yet opened all the mines. The throne room was not rebuilt. Thorin ran his hand over his head, brushing his hair back. What had he been doing all this time?

He looked at the plans for the king's chambers and sighed. That was another issue. He remembered how Balin had asked him to occupy those rooms, that not doing so gave the wrong signal. But he hadn't listened to him. He didn't want to go in there, he didn't want to deal with what was in that room, with the memories and the ghosts. Bilbo had changed that. It had been so easy, so simple. Bilbo had been by his side and he didn't know how, but he had gone from fearing that place to wanting to transform it into their new home.

At that time he missed Bilbo very much. He knew that it was not okay, that he should solve his problems alone, but he couldn't help but realize that with Bilbo everything was easier. There was something in the halfling, something in the way he was, in the smell of his hair, in the touch of his hands, something that relaxed him, that made him see clearly, that showed him the way. But he was the king, he was the leader of his people, he had been brought up to reign alone, as it should be. However, he had spent his entire life alone and he was tired of it.

 _But that's not true_ , he thought. _You have never really been alone._

He thought of his sister, how she had always been there for him. Balin, Dwalin, Gloin and Oin. They had always been there for him. But still he had always felt lonely. It was as if he couldn't share the burden with them. It was his role to take care of them, take care of everyone. He was the heir of Durin, leader of his people. A burden he had had since his father disappeared. He had been very young then, not much older than his nephews and much younger than he should have. To think that now he didn't have to be alone, that now he could share it with Bilbo made him feel strange. On the one hand he wanted to do it, he wanted to go find Bilbo and tell him about all his problems, ask him for help with all those issues that he had been avoiding. But at the same time he thought that he couldn't, that he shouldn't. It wasn't fair to Bilbo.

Thorin had learned a lot about hobbits in recent months and knew that they valued peace above all else. He was still not quite sure that Bilbo was aware of the decision he had made. He was going to respect him, but at the same time he feared that it would be too much, that once Bilbo realized all that was expected of him as consort, he would back off. This is precisely why Thorin did not want to overwhelm him before his time. He didn't want to do anything that would make Bilbo think about leaving, because he still couldn't believe that he was going to stay, he didn't quite believe that he was going to marry him.

He noticed arms surrounding him and for a moment he tensed, his whole body on alert, until he noticed how small they were, how they could not completely surround him. He leaned backwards, feeling Bilbo's body against his back. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment for a few seconds before turning around.

“Hello.” Thorin's voice was soft, welcoming. Bilbo smiled.

“Hello.”

“Has anyone seen you?” Thorin asked placing his hand on Bilbo's cheek, caressing it slowly.

“The doubt offends me.” The hobbit replied with mock offense in his voice. "What kind of burglar do you think I am?”

Thorin smiled and brought Bilbo's face to his, kissing him gently. He needed those lips, there was something addictive about them, something that him want him more each passing day. He noticed how Bilbo opened his mouth and licked him for access. Thorin gave it to him, and before long he found Bilbo's arms encircling his body, his whole being concentrated on the hobbit's mouth, on his kisses.

They parted after some time, but Thorin didn’t move away from him. He needed to feel him close. That calming effect he had was showing up, and all previous thoughts were starting to fade, clearing his mind.

“What are you worried about?” Asked the hobbit.

Thorin looked at him surprised at his insight. He didn't say anything for a moment, for he didn't know what to say. He didn't know whether or not he should be honest about everything that ailed him.

Bilbo looked at him and walked away. He said nothing, just took the glass he had put aside when his sister had been there, and refilled it, taking a sip. He went to the fireplace and ran his fingers over the carving that decorated the rock. Thorin looked at him. He didn't know what to say.

“It went well, didn't it? I mean the announcement.” He said without looking at him, following the geometric lines. "I haven't done anything wrong, have I?"

“Of course not.” Thorin said quickly. “You have been perfect.”

He noticed how Bilbo nodded. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to get to him, how to explain. He wanted to do it, but at the same time he thought he shouldn't. It was not Bilbo's burden. The hobbit didn't deserve more, not after all he was sacrificing for him.

These were the moments Thorin had no experience at all. He had never had a romantic relationship before. His life had been practically limited to his sister, his nephews, and Dwalin. He knew how to treat those four, but he didn't know how to treat someone like Bilbo. He had never had an interest in romantic relationships, he had never cared, and now he realized that perhaps he should have learned earlier, when he was young. Everything was easy when both were in a moment of passion, or dealing with something specific. Everything was easy when it was just friendship. But now… Now Thorin realized that he had to give more, that what they had before was not enough. He wanted more from Bilbo, he wanted everything from the hobbit, and it made sense that the hobbit wanted the same from him.

“I know you do everything alone,” said Bilbo without turning around. “You’ve been doing things like that way all your life and I don’t want you to change. Not for me. But I want you to know I'm here.” His voice sounded confident but soft. "If you need anything, I'm here." He turned, and Thorin saw the concern in Bilbo's eyes. “This… I'm not good at it. I'm not good at relationships. I… I've never had one and, well, it's… difficult.”

 _He doesn't know what to do either_ , he thought, _we are both lost_.

“I notice that something worries you, Thorin, I have been seeing it for a long time. And if there's anything I can do, anything, I'd like to do it, I'd like to help.”

Thorin moved closer, realizing with every step he took that it didn't have to be this way. He had to be honest, he owed him that. He took the halfling's hands in his and looked at him.

“There is much I want to tell you, many things that worry me, but I don't know if I should. I think of you, of the peace you give me, of how smart you are, and I know that I must come to you. But at the same time I think it's not fair. I don't want to burden you with obligations that are not yours, I don't want to burden you with my problems.”

Bilbo shook his head and Thorin didn't know how to take it.

"I've been learning a lot about your culture these last few months," Bilbo said grabbing his hands. “And I’ve learned that you have something that you call _merlar_. Hobbits have nothing like that, but if we did, you would be mine. Am I yours?” His question was sincere, open to the truth, without expectations.

"You are." He answered firmly, for it was the truth. Bilbo nodded.

“I have learned that it is something like a person split in two, as if they were formed from the same rock and divided at birth. They need each other to live, they complement each other. They form a single being.” Bilbo looked at him, asking him to correct him if he was wrong. Thorin nodded. “I want us to be that, Thorin. I want us to be that one being. I want to know your problems, your regrets, I want you to know mine. I want everything from you, because I want to give you everything that I am. I know it's not much, but it's yours.”

Thorin was going to speak, but Bilbo didn’t let him. He put his hand to his mouth, silencing him.

“I know you are afraid that I will go away, that one day I will get cold feet. I see it in your eyes, I notice it in the way you touch me, as if you are savouring every moment in case it’s the last. I understand where that feeling comes from and deep down I’m guilty that there is that doubt in you. But I want you to know that that’s not going to happen. I'm not leaving. Yes, it is true that my idea when I came here was not to stay, it was not to marry you and become consort. And I don't want you to think I'm doing it for you. I'm not doing it for you, Thorin. I’m not marrying you for you, nor am I staying here for you. I do it for me. Because I love you, because you are who I love and need the most in this world, because I cannot imagine a life in which you are not by my side, I don’t want to imagine it. I'm here to stay, Thorin.”

Bilbo stood on his tiptoes and kissed Thorin softly, a mere touch of lips. The king didn’t move, touched by Bilbo's words.

“I’m not blind, I can see that there are problems you haven't solved, things that afflict you, and there will be more tomorrow. This courtship, Thorin, will not be easy. Many people will be against it. And I want you to know that you can count on me, I want you to count on me. Your problems are my problems, your worries are mine.”

Thorin looked at Bilbo trying to suppress the current of feelings he felt. The hobbit was right, about everything. Many times Thorin forgot how well Bilbo was with words, how coherent, how well he could speak, express his feelings and concerns. That was a virtue he didn't have, he had never been good at words, and now he realized that he didn't need to be good any more. He had Bilbo. And Bilbo was right. He could share everything with him, and he intended to. Thorin was not a dwarf of words, but of actions.

He grabbed Bilbo and hugged him, bringing his head to the neck of the halfling and breathing in the scent of him. Bilbo didn't need words, he got the message. Bilbo had learned to read Thorin, to interpret his gestures, his actions. Bilbo hugged his dwarf tightly, comforting him as only he could.

***

They hadn't spent many nights together. That was the truth. Not with the whole business of not being able to sleep together, of giving the impression that there was only friendship between them. They had shared moments of passion, but they had been few. They were at that moment in which they wanted to discover the other's body, wanted to be together all day, to be able to touch, kiss when they pleased. But it wasn't possible, and they both understood it. However, that didn't make it any easier for Bilbo.

Bilbo hadn't had any great sexual encounters during his life, not to say that he really hadn't had any before Thorin. To put Thorin and Rory in the same bag when it came to sexual experiences was to insult the dwarf and magnify his cousin. No. Bilbo hadn't known what pleasure was until recently, and having to be deprived of it, knowing that he was so close to it, bothered him. It wasn't like he couldn't think of anything else, he thought of many things. Throughout the day he had a lot to do: he had to help Cyn and Eggar, the field was improving a lot; he had to help his friends, without going any further Bofur and that dwarf who happened not to go to the store to see Bifur but to see Bofur; he had to learn khuzdul and many customs and traditions from hundreds of years ago… No, Bilbo had too much to do to think about having sexual encounters with Thorin. Yet every time he kissed him, every time he touched him, the few times that happened, he wished he could have them. Even so, he was not very upset, because he knew that they would have time once they got married, and then nothing was going to prevent him from enjoying his dwarf. Bilbo was a patient hobbit like all Baggins.

Bilbo had never thought that he was a sexual person. It was as if if he had spent his whole life without trying his aunt Linda's apple pie, living only with the ones he bought at the market or made by his mother, until one fine day they had given him a small slide. Bilbo had tasted it, he had discovered a different world, one full of flavor and wonder, but when he had wanted another portion he was denied. He had at his disposal a whole cake that he could not touch.

There was so much he didn't know about Thorin, so much that he wanted to discover. They had barely had time to get to know the other, to be able to lie quietly in bed, discovering themselves and learning what was well received and what wasn’t. Bilbo wanted to go through each scar and learn how they got there. He wanted to touch the inked skin and find out if the texture was different, he wanted to count the moles on his body, he wanted to be able to categorize the differences between his body and the dwarf's. And by the way Thorin looked at him, the dwarf wanted the same thing.

It didn't take more than two hands to count the times he and Thorin had been together in the last few months, there were actually a few fingers left over. However, strangely enough, that was not what bothered Bilbo the most. The worst thing for him was waking up alone. Every morning he opened his eyes and had to remember that he was in Erebor, that Thorin was there and that they had a relationship. Every morning he had to repeat that to himself. Every morning he had to turn around and see the big empty space in his bed. It was in those moments that he missed Thorin the most. The dwarf had a tendency to hug him before sleeping, which comforted Bilbo and immersed him in a state of security. The times he had woken up next to him Thorin had always been there. It had been the first thing he had seen, the first thing he had noticed. He longed to see his face sleeping next him, to see the lines that formed on his face disappear, to see his hair slightly matted, to hear his hoarse voice saying good morning. That was what Bilbo missed the most.

Today should have been one of those days where nothing should have happened between them. Where each one went to their respective rooms and the next day they followed the meticulous plan drawn up by Balin. But it was not like that. He had noticed that Thorin was not himself, something was bothering him. Perhaps it was the fact of having to declare that he was going to court him in front of his people, but Bilbo doubted it. He hadn't had any problem walking him around Erebor, knowing the looks they were going to receive. No. Thorin had been weird for a few weeks and Bilbo thought to find out why. That was exactly why he used his ring and entered the Palace. He wanted to be alone with Thorin, to talk to him. Bilbo hadn't had many really important romantic conversations in recent years, not since his parents died. But now he was going to have to remember everything his father had taught him and talk to Thorin. The dwarf had never intimidated him, and Bilbo had let him see that honest and real part that he hid so much in the Shire. You could say that with Thorin he had never hold his tongue.

Now he was hugging Thorin, feeling how the dwarf's body enveloped him, comforting him as he stroked his hair. Bilbo knew that Thorin's worst enemy was himself. The dwarf felt so much, he doubted himself so much, that there were times that not even Bilbo could ease the nervous activity of his heart and mind. Thorin was daily work, it was something new every day, it was battle after battle. And Bilbo wouldn't change a thing. Thorin was life, he was emotion, he was passion, he was everything Bilbo had never known that he needed to live. There was not a day that he did not discover something new about him, that the dwarf didn’t surprise him in one way or another, there was no time that his heart didn’t beat a little faster when he saw the king's eyes fixed on his, than his body didn’t flinch when he noticed his hands encircling his face. He had begun to understand that this feeling would never go away, and that was comforting. He loved Thorin. He loved him as he had never loved anyone, and he planned to spend the rest of his life reminding him if he needed to.

"Bilbo," said the dwarf, pulling away from him and looking into his eyes. There it was again that feeling.

Bilbo caressed his face, running over his beard, noting the tickle it produced on his fingers. He had a need to take care of Thorin, to make him feel good. He thought about his parents, what they would do.

“How about a bath? It has been a long day.”

A bath had always relaxed Bilbo. When he had been little and something bad had happened to him on one of his "adventures" on the outskirts of Hobbiton, his mother had always bathed him, brushing his feet and head gently.

"Will you join me?" Thorin asked.

“Sure,” Bilbo replied.

***

Thorin's bathtub was big enough for both of them, in fact it was so deep that Bilbo feared that if he got down on his knees in the deepest part, the water would reach his mouth. So Bilbo was out. He was with his shirt rolled up as much as possible and sitting on a small stool. His fingers removing the braids and beads from Thorin's hair. Detangling it gently with before brushing it.

"Why do you have so few braids?" He asked him, leaving the largest bead that he always put near the nape of the neck in a bowl. “I mean, all dwarves always wear their hair and beard so decorated. I have learned that it is a very important cultural thing. However, you only have two braids and a few beads.”

Bilbo felt Thorin breathe and sink slightly into the water.

"I had more before," he said, and his voice rang out with a hint of resignation. “Before the fall of Erebor. When I was very young, I had a longer beard, braided, finished in a bead that matched the rest. Decorated with the signs of my family.” Bilbo took the brush and began slowly. “I had part of my hair tied back, like Fili and Kili. That is a mark of youth, of heirs.”

"The buckles that they always wear at the middle of the head?"

“Yes. They show that they are next in the lineage of a family.”

Bilbo was silent for a few minutes, brushing Thorin's hair slowly, delighting in its touch.

“I cut it off,” said Thorin and Bilbo stopped. "After Azanulbizar, when we got back to Ered Luin."

Bilbo had learned enough about the culture of his future husband to know the terrible meaning of that phrase. “Why?”

“Because they claimed to be something that I wasn't. I was not a prince of Erebor, I was nothing they represented, I was not worthy of them.” His voice had a hint of rage, suppressed anger mixed with sadness that Bilbo knew would never completely disappear.

Bilbo didn't try to cheer him up, he didn't try to soften the subject with soft nonsense. He respected Thorin's pain, and his memory. He began to do a loose braid, the only complicated hair style his mother had ever taught him. When he finished he tied it with the piece of leather that was in the bowl.

“What does the king usually wear? Traditionally speaking.” Bilbo moved his hands, bringing them to Thorin's back and starting a massage.

“A lot. Traditionally the beard is very long, hence the name of our clan. And decorated with all kinds of braids and beads. My grandfather used to wear a kind of jewel that went from one side of his thick beard to the other and matched the crown. It gave him an air of inimitable power. Tradition dictates that they are complex, elegant hairstyles, but showing the hair, its the length and the quality.”

Bilbo considered what Thorin had told him. He couldn't help looking at his hair, how different it was from any hobbit's hair, thicker, fuller, more untamed. Thorin had beautiful hair, Bilbo had always thought so and, in a way, he had always been thankful that he didn't wear it up. He liked to see how it moved.

“I remember when I asked you why your beard was so short. Remember?” Thorin nodded, still Bilbo retold the moment. “Your face was worthy of drawing and hanging in a place of honor. I didn't know it was such an intimate question, that I shouldn't ask, yet you answered it with such sincerity.” Bilbo lowered himself slightly, pressing on an especially hard section of his back. "You told me that the day Erebor was recovered you would let it grow back." Thorin let out a half-groan half-growl when Bilbo squeezed him with his thumbs. "Why haven't you let it grow?"

"Would that please you?"

Bilbo thought about the question. He imagined a Thorin with a long beard like Gloin, braided into a single braid. He imagined the touch, the image. And he came to the conclusion that if he had to be sincere, the idea did not excite him. He preferred Thorin like now, with the beard he had, able to see his neck.

“That’s not the point here. Do you want to?”

“No.” Thorin replied. “At first I thought so, and I started to let it grow. I thought it was time. After decades of thinking about it, having it on my mind, I thought it would feel good, that it would close a chapter in my life. However, it wasn't me.” Thorin scooped up water in his hands and dropped it back into the tub, causing the sound of the drops to fill the room. “I started not to recognize myself in the mirror. I was afraid to stop being the person I was and lose myself in the person I was supposed to be.” Thorin paused for a moment and Bilbo kept moving, without imposing himself, without pressuring him.

"I was afraid to become my grandfather again." And Bilbo understood the depth behind that phrase, the trust Thorin had in him. He was opening his mind and fears to him like never before. They had not talked about Thorin's illness, nor had they spoken about his grandfather, nor how he was, nor how Thorin lived through his king's illness. They had never brought the subject up. Hearing that phrase had moved something inside Bilbo.

“I was afraid to forget. I must not forget, Bilbo. I must not forget who I am and what I have lived. I don't want to forget the years spent in Ered Luin, I don't want to forget the poverty and suffering of my people. I don't want to forget the fall of Erebor. I don't want to forget Azanulbizar and the death of so many of my people. I don't want to forget that gold transformed me, trapping me in its clutches and turning me into a shadow of myself. I don't want to forget who I am or what I have done. That is why I cut my beard, why I do not wear my hair in elegant and ornate hairdos. Because I don't want to forget.”

Bilbo stopped and Thorin turned. His eyes full of determination. Bilbo stroked his cheek, feeling the short beard between his fingers, the warmth of his skin from the water.

"I wouldn't want any other Thorin." He said and Thorin smiled. “The one in front of me is perfect. No long beard or luscious braids.” He leaned closer to him, leaning on the edge of the tub. “You are perfect.”

***

Bilbo noticed movement. Something was happening. He didn't know what. He was at his house, in Bag End, but someone was knocking on the door. No. No one was calling. Someone was home. Something was weird. He turned, searching for the cause, but he didn't know what it was. Something was happening, something was moving.

Bilbo opened his eyes and it took him a few seconds to recognize his surroundings. He was in Thorin's room. The fireplace was on and he could see part of the room thanks to the light. He remembered how he had gotten there. After the bath Bilbo had stayed with Thorin, they had gone to bed together. Nothing had happened, not after the conversation they had had, but Bilbo had noticed how Thorin hugged him a little tighter than usual before sleeping. _Thorin._

He turned, looking for his partner, and saw him sitting cross-legged and clutching the sheet. A still image in the middle of the bed.

"Thorin?" He called in the weak voice caused by sleep. But Thorin didn't move, he didn't respond.

Bilbo leaned back a little and called him again, but the dwarf did not answer him. His face was covered by strands of hair that had come out of the braid. Bilbo didn't notice the sweat trickling down his back, or the puddled pillow. He walked over to him and reached out to touch his shoulder, to get his attention. That was a mistake he would never make again for the rest of his life.

***

Corpses It was all he saw. Image after image. The dead dwarfs with their children, petrified after so long, were interspersed with images of the battlefield. Corpses laid in the sun, beginning to decompose. He could feel his heart beating. He thought it was going to come out of his mouth. He didn’t know how many or where or why. He couldn't stop looking at them, stop hearing their voices. He heard the beat of his heart in his ears, the heartbeat of all those who had perished because of him. He had awakened to the strangled cry of his comrades falling, prey to orcs or fire. The images were still there, etched on his retina.

It was not the first time that this had happened to him, that he had such intense nightmares, because they had accompanied him all his life. He knew there was nothing he could do. The images were there, they would not go away. They would stick around for hours, making the next day one of his bad ones. He could still see them awake, could hear them. His grandfather came to mind, the last time he saw him before the arrival of the dragon. His grandfather, looking at his gold, adoring it. He saw himself as his grandfather, as if someone had changed their faces. He saw himself there, surrounded by gold, without looking at the corpses behind the large piles of coins.

He felt his shoulder being touched and thought of the dragon, the image of him in his mind, his twisted smile, the curse that had fallen upon him. He turned around, catching his claw and squeezing hard. He wanted to destroy him, destroy every single image in his mind. He wanted to hear him scream in pain. But instead of hearing a terrifying beast scream he heard a groan of pain. He blinked and saw that it was not the dragon, but Bilbo. He looked at his hand and saw that he was holding Bilbo's forearm so tightly that his knuckles were almost white. He released him, pulling his hand away from him, listening to Bilbo's moan of relief, seeing under the warm light of the fireplace the growing bruise that began to form where seconds before his fingers had been.

He looked at Bilbo in horror. He had hurt him. He nearly broke his arm. He had hurt him. He, who had promised himself never to hurt him, never lay a hand on him, never… He moved away from Bilbo and the bed. He had to get away from him. He didn't know when the images were coming back, he couldn't be near him. It was a dangerous. He needed go. He tripped over the sheets as he got up and fell to the ground. He just stood there, noticing how the tears fell down his face, he hadn't realized that he was crying.

“Thorin?” Said Bilbo approaching him. “Thorin?”

"Stay away!" He yelled at him, his voice like thunder looming a storm.

Bilbo stopped short. “Dear?”

Thorin tried to get up, but he couldn't. His muscles weren't responding. He had to go, he had to get away from Bilbo. He looked at the bed, hoping that he had listened to him. He didn't want to look into his eyes, didn't want to see the terror in them again, terror of him. But Bilbo was not in his bed, he was in front of him. He wasn't trying to touch him, he was just there, he was looking at him from a distance enough to reach out and touch him. But he wasn't doing it.

“Thorin?”

Thorin looked into his eyes. There was no fear in them, there was no terror, just worry. Thorin couldn't move. He could feel the tears falling down his face but he didn't notice he was crying. Bilbo raised his hand carefully, slowly, and placed it in front of him like a frightened wild animal. Thorin wanted to tell him to get away, not to get close to him, that he could hurt him again. He noticed Bilbo's other hand, his forearm, the clear marks of his fingers. He had done that.

Bilbo kept bringing his hand closer until he brought it inches from Thorin's face. “Thorin?”

Thorin didn’t move, and Bilbo walked the distance between them. He felt his hand on his cheek and his beating heart stopped, everything calming down. He closed his eyes, focusing on Bilbo's hand, on the caress. The images were still there, but not in the foreground, not so vivid. He didn't know how long they were like this, but later he guessed long enough.

"Let's go back to bed," said the hobbit, and Thorin wanted to refuse, he wanted to tell him no, that he couldn't be with him, that he was dangerous. But he couldn’t. His body weighed him down, he noticed how his eyes closed, he was so tired. He noticed how Bilbo held him, leading him to his bed. He lay down and Bilbo came to stand beside him, at a safe distance. Little by little he approached him, repeating the same steps as before, until he had his head in his small hands and began to stroke his hair. Thorin moved, joining him, taking refuge in his body. He knew he shouldn't, that he had no right, not after what he had done to him. He had no right to anything. But his body didn't respond to his command.

Bilbo began to sing. His voice soft, the words almost unrecognizable. And Thorin closed his eyes. He felt the music silence his demons, noticed the images fade, felt the calm. And he felt the darkness surround him. The darkness, without corpses, without tears, without fire, without gold, without horror. Just the darkness and a melodious voice.

_____

_‘Adad: Mother_

_Zirinhanâd: Iron Hills_

_Nadad: Brother_

_Merlar: Supreme love / One._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments!
> 
> Por si quieres leerlo en Español: https://archiveofourown.org/series/192518


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